The 100: Rewind
by KaaaAuthor
Summary: Praimfaya took everything she had, but now she has a chance to get it all back. The question is, can she save everyone without fucking it all up again?
1. One

_A/N: I've been so obsessed with this show lately! Hope you guys enjoy, no promises on continuing it, but I'll certainly try. Leave comments and such. Thanks! _

_Disclaimer: All characters and plots obviously belong to the creators of the show and books. This is just a fan fiction!_

——————"Chapter One"——————-

Nibbling on some horrible tasting provision, the quiet clanging of boots against metal echoed around me. I paced in a meticulous pattern, vigorously scratching my pencil in frantic script; it was the one activity I hadn't become completely bored of in the last few months. My face was fixed in a grimace-like scowl, eyebrows furrowed and eye twitching. My entries were short and to the point, as I feared my pencil was quickly running out of lead.

**It has been three months.**

**My burns are healing well. They are sore to the touch and sting, but no longer ooze pus or smell of infection. Alcohol treatment working.**

**My dreams are nightmares. Friends leave or die. Lexa is dead. Grounders betray us. I am alone.**

**Starting to consider this notebook my friend. Wish I had people instead. Lexa, Bellamy, Raven, Luna, Mom, even Murphy crosses my thoughts often. I miss them.**

I doodled a gruesome image of one of my dreams in the the bottom corner— me, standing over Lexa with a knife that was dripping black blood. It reminds me who I am. I stop pacing, running a hand through my hair and wincing as it brushes against some of the burns.

Writing in my sketchbook-turned journal — getting things off my chest and sketching faces so I don't forget them — it's the thin wall between me and another breakdown. I didn't expect to survive Praimfaya, but now that I have I wish I hadn't. I don't hold out hope to see my friends again; soon I'll run out of food and water, and then I'll have to go outside. That would mean either a quick or slow death, and both result in the same thing; me dying alone. I never even knew it was a fear of mine until now.

Every day is like being forced to dance in hot iron shoes. No matter how hard I try to survive, I'll get hurt and eventually those hurts will add up and kill me. I'm starting to feel like I've already hit my limit. Every day, killing myself seems less insane and more like my only option. Whats the logic behind trying to snatch up as much time as I can before I die? Why shouldn't I just get it over with? There's nothing I can do to save myself, I don't even have any reason to live at all. I'm running purely on dying hopes and spite.

Every time I walk by a bed, a computer, or pretty anything that anyone I knew might have used... I'm reminded of everything I've lost— and I've lost everything, so it's rather a lot. I suppose you could call me weak. I've always thought I was a survivor, but it turns out the only reason I ever did was because of people; I needed people like I needed air to breath.

I try, I really do—to stay strong, for Lexa. It's just... no matter what I do, she's dead and I'm alive, living in this stupid lab. Alone.

I collapse on a chair that's just a little too comfy, not suited at all to my situation, closing my eyes. I'm so tired, I can't do this. I won't do this.

Slowly, I lift my gun to my temple, hand shaking. It's not that I wanted to die, not really. What I wanted was Lexa, and my friends, my family... but if I can't have any of that, then what's the point?

I click the safety off of my gun, finger ghosting over the trigger. I've seen enough peoples brains shot out to know it's not pretty. Then again, most deaths aren't. It's not like anyone was left that would have to clean it up. My lips wobble, but I don't cry. I just silently stare ahead.

A few seconds were spent in tense silence, and then I pull the trigger— a hard, fast motion that's meant to shove off my doubt.

The last thing I hear is a bang, but I'm gone before my ears can even start ringing.

"-eed to trust me on this..." I trailed off, blinked rapidly. One blink. Two. Three. Wait, what? Was I saying something? I had just... died. Who was I talking to? Where was I?

A harsh snap sounds beside my right ear, and I flinch when I recall a similar sound that had been there only a second ago. Someone was trying to get my attention. I just furrowed my eyebrows, my head swimming in a cloudy fog.

"Clarke? Clarke, what the hell, You spacing out on me?" A familiar voice ground out. It was muffled, like I was underwater.

I stared blankly into space and raised a hand to my face, hovering over my temple. The air smelled fresh and alive, and so did I. Thats... not right... I should be...

"Clarke!" This time it was clear and sharp, making my heart jump.

I snap to attention, stumbling backwards when I see who is calling to me— Bellamy Blake! What the hell?!

"Bellamy?" I asked weakly, my grey-blue eyes wide and intense with disbelief.

"Uh... yeah? Hey, are you alright? You sure that creepy fog didn't get in your head, princess?"

"What? No... did you say fog?" I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. Did he just call me... princess?

"Yes, princess!" Bellamy said dramatically, waving his arms like a flightless bird trying to take off. I jump at his involuntary reading of my thoughts, and he lowers his voice to an intense whisper. "Are you on something? Please tell me you didn't take Jasper's weird-ass hallucination juice."

"Jasper..." I muttered, leaning hard against the wall behind me. This was impossible, right? I can't be... I mean, this has to be a dream— or a hallucination. Maybe I'm in a coma.

"Yeah, Jasper—crazy guy with goggles? Got kidnapped by savages? You saved him?!" Bellamy's voice grew louder with each sentence. I looked at him incredulously, but it was probably smothered by my tearful confusion. If anything, I should remember Jasper for having killed himself after I killed his girlfriend, not because I once saved him.

Bellamy lowered his voice, tilting his head to scrutinize me. "Seriously... you good?" I leaned away, completely overwhelmed. I looked around at our surroundings— a forest. Bright, green, and alive. The air was fresh and moist. After being trapped inside for long it felt so... I caught Bellamy's eyes. Bellamy! How was he here? Where was here? I'm sure my mouth must be gaping, but I'm too out of it to care.

"Wha- Bellamy, where are we? What's going on? I feel..." I felt weird. Different, like before I became Wanheda. My clothes are obviously Skaikru, and my hair is long and blond. My skin is soft and white, and I feel a strange loss of strength— a lack of muscle. My body isn't my own.

The world spun around me, and I could feel a cold sweat down my back. My hand is subtly shaking, and I clench my jaw as I struggle to stay up. My hearts thumping out of rhythm. Everything. Is. Wrong.

"—arke? Clarke! Get a fucking grip, we're going back to camp!" He grabbed my forearm before I could argue, effectively dragging me towards... wherever. I could easily escape his grip if I wanted to,

but why would I? I needed to know what was going on. Bellamy looked different too; younger. Like he did when we first landed. I kept pace with him, a fast and determined walk. I observed the forest as we went, stumbling more than I should have after years of practice, but Bell doesn't seem to notice or care.

It's about five minutes into our woodland trek that I finally comprehend where we are— who we are. I probably knew it all along, I just couldn't admit it to myself. I couldn't hope for something like this. Yet, here we were, somewhere I was sure we wouldn't ever be again. I felt a hysterical laugh bubble in my chest as we pass more and more familiar land. Every time I see the smallest thing I think, '_I know that tree!_', '_I know that log!_' It was all coming back to me in a nightmarish rush. All the while Bellamy's young, hardly calloused hand holds mine in a deadly, sweaty grip.

This was Trikru territory, and _we_...

We are the 100.


	2. Two

—————"Chapter Two"———————

Maybe it was wrong of me, or at the least selfish, but I couldn't bring myself to tell Bellamy what was going on. I let him drag me behind him, ignoring the concerned and annoyed looks he'd turn to give me every once and a while. I just drifted into camp, a wonder stricken expression on my face. Even the juvenility of the teens around me couldn't break my trance. Everything I've been through; my sins, my victories and failures, the death and destruction we all endured... it all appeared to be wiped clean. I knew, I just knew that this could go two radically different ways: with me screwing it all up again, or with me managing to fix everything. I wouldn't let the first one happen. If I played my cards right, I could save us all, and that's what I planned to do.

Being in the 100's camp was like walking into a dream... or a nightmare. I could see this experience either way, to be honest. Thankfully I hadn't run into any of my closer friends yet, but whenever I even glimpse a familiar face I can feel my heart jump in my chest and my palms go sweaty. My mind fights between wanting to tackle them in an unrelenting hug, and throw up at the sight of their young, stupidly innocent faces. By all the rules of logic, they should be six feet under and rotting. Yet... here they were. All one hundred of us, alive and well.

The grounders hadn't even attacked yet, and no-ones been caught in the fog. Shit... I have to warn them! I mean, I have to do something. How the hell do you get the attention of a bunch of kids with authority issues?

Fuck it. it's now or never.

I turn around to Bellamy suddenly, ignoring the lurch in my heart at his face. He was standing behind me now, leading me to the grounded ship. Probably to check and see if I had some kind of permanent mental damage— I wouldn't blame him.

"Bellamy." I stated in a serious, commanding voice. I stared him directly in the eyes. He raised an eyebrow.

"Clarke?" He mimicked.

"I need to somehow get the attention of everyone in camp. Will you help me?"

"Why the hell would I do that, Clarke?" His tone was a mix of surprise, tiredness, and annoyance. His arms cross; rather dramatically, if you ask me.

"Because if you don't," I hissed, getting in his face. His eyes widen, and I know even with my now softer features I could be intimidating, "Most of us are going to die, and the rest will wish they had."

"Is that a threat?" I could practically see his testosterone levels rising by his expression, and I roll my eyes. Judging by his furrowed eyebrows and clenched jaw, I'd say he's disturbed by my dismissal of his gun show.

"It's a warning, Bellamy. I'm serious."

He leans back a bit at that, suddenly looking more thoughtful. "What do you mean Clarke? What could you possibly have to say?" He narrows his eyes, scoffing. "This another one of your 'Oooh! You can't take off those bracelets, what about sweet Jaha, he'd be soooooo disappointed!' shticks? No one wants to listen to that shit, Clarke!"

It's a fair assumption I guess, but I can't help but feel stung at the disgust and bitterness of his tone. Fucking. Teenagers.

"No, Bellamy! Jesus, just trust me on this, okay?" I know immediately it's the wrong thing to say. Sure, it might convince my Bells, but this Bellamy does not like me, period.

He sneers at me, fist clenching. "Trust you, are you kidding? Why the hell would I trust you, princess?"

"Fine, don't trust me then! Just hear me out." I take a deep breath; time to get convincing.

"We know three things Bellamy. One: there are people living on the ground with us. Two: they are really unhappy with us for some reason, probably because we're on their land. Three: whether it's poisonous gas, plants, or deadly animals... this planet wants us dead. I'm only going to ask you this one time Bellamy, so answer honestly... what are we going to do about it?" I finish harshly, my stare deadly.

He opens his mouth, ready to retort, then closes it. Then opens it, and closes it again. Groaning, he swipes a hand over his face.

"Fuck, Clarke, I don't know! You trying to say that you do?" It's obviously said as an insult, like he doesn't think if he doesn't have an answer then I can't have one. Gotta say, that's a little offensive.

"I don't know. I think so. It's worth a try, alright? We need to unite our people, Bellamy. There's no way we'll be able to survive in chaos, whether you like it or not. This place needs order, protection. We need food and water, patrols, shelter! Hell, if we don't get started now how are we going to survive winter? What about the next fucking storm, huh?"

I think, dread in my stomach, of the hurricane. I can tell he's listening now— his eyes are locked on mine and he's rubbing his arm the way he does when he's thinking.

"No one seems to realize what's going on... I don't think they want to. Hell, I don't want to! But, Bellamy, right now we're pioneers that just sailed to a new land, and if we don't start settling the land soon I don't think I have to remind you what'll happen to us. Does Roanoke ring a bell, genius?"

He does look frightened at that.

"Especially since, now that our bracelets are off, the Ark won't be coming down to help us anytime soon."

Bellamy looks determined by the time I've finished, and I feel hopeful. "So, what do you say? Will you help me or what?"

He gives me one short, stiff nod and holds out his hand. I don't know whether it's habit or the seriousness of the situation, but I grab his arm in a grounder handshake. He looks surprised, but holds my gaze. I smirk, "Let's do this." I intone with finality. He, to my surprise, actually grins in response.

"Who knew that the princess had it in her?" He mocks sarcastically. I smack his arm playfully, feeling lighter for once.

"C'mon, dumbass." Bellamy looks shocked at my cursing, but simply laughs and follows my lead. It's go time.


End file.
